Never Again
by purplemud
Summary: But her heart was screaming that she had lost something important. Something precious and she hadn't even realized it. The girl inside, the dead girl with two slashes on her cheeks and a pierced heart, that girl could have been like a sister to her. [Post Jinchuu]
1. Chapter 1

**Never Again**

**Disclaimer: **Standard disclaimers apply. I do not own, nor will I ever, own RK.

**Authors Note:** Warning: angst straight ahead.

* * *

She never comes to his dreams.

He really didn't expect her to, but he wanted it badly enough because where else will he be able to see if her? She is gone. Her smile is gone. Her warmth is gone. Her light is gone. Her laughter. Her kindness. Her strength.

_His_ home.

All of that, gone.

Everything gone.

It is winter all around him. There is no color, no taste, no sound. Nothing. A vacuum.

What he feels now is the numbing chill inside his chest – a dark, bottomless pit of emptiness.

He is nameless now. Not a wanderer, no not anymore. Not a hitokiri. Not someone who protects. Not alive. Breathing, yes; existing, but not alive.

He is nothing now.

* * *

Enishi was wrong. It didn't take four minutes. Not even five. A stab through the heart, how long would that have taken? Less than a minute. Seconds, even.

This wasn't guess work. He would know. Of course he would know. One vicious thrust, as easy at that. All of Enishi's strength, his all-consuming anger, the full force of his Jinchuu and the blade would have easily gone through skin and tissues. It would have taken her by surprise, she wouldn't – couldn't have felt it.

He would've happily gone mad at that instant. Losing his mind would have been a blessing: to not be aware, to not feel the crushing weight of anguish, to dissolve into nothingness…but he couldn't.

Not when she was sitting like that, lifeless, blank eyes staring right through him, her lips slightly opened. Her wound – his wound, mirrored on her cheeks – still bleeding bright, bright red. Not with Enishi's wattou pinning her against the wall.

He couldn't leave her like that. Even in the haze of shock and pain and grief, he refused to let his last memory of her be like this.

He didn't know how, but he found the will to hold on to his already fraying mind. However badly he wanted to flee this moment, he took hold of what little control he could still find in him. Bad enough that he had let this happen, unforgivable, but to let Enishi put her pain in display like this, for everyone to see, it was unacceptable.

He tried to regain his center, helplessly grasping for some semblance of stability. He felt lost and completely unhinged and it took him a while to focus on anything but the overwhelming need to feel something other than the encompassing pain of loss.

Slowly, everything returned to him. The scent of gunpowder and blood was the first thing that assailed his senses. When he tried to stand up, he had to gag and swallow down the bile rising in his throat, suffocating him.

Without warning, the vague smell of white plum wafted through the air and he desperately, desperately wanted to howl and scream, plunge himself in some kind of darkness where he couldn't see or feel – where he could be numb – it was all too much…

But he didn't. No, not yet. Not now.

Just give him a few more minutes, Kami. Please. Later he will grieve and bleed and curse and be so exhausted, he'd stop feeling and thinking altogether.

But not yet, not yet. Onegai, not yet.

The silent mantra helped. When he could finally breathe again, he forced himself to get up and walk towards her. He had to face her like this, it was the least that he could do.

Another punishment to endure.

* * *

Up close, her blue eyes were dimmed, no trace of that playful glimmer, or that thoughtful, quiet look of understanding. Seeing her eyes like that, even though he already knew it, it drove home the truth that she was gone.

He took in every little detail, memorizing it, burning the image inside his brain, letting it sear all the way through his soul: a lone trail of blood escaping the corner of her lips, the way her shoulder slumped, the cross-scar…

Gasping, fire spreading through his chest, he knelt down and moved his arms around her: a final embrace (she was still warm) and suddenly, blessedly, the scent of jasmine.

"Kaoru," this he whispered against her collarbone. This would be the last time that he would let her name touch his lips. He wasn't allowed – no, he wasn't worthy. Not after he had so utterly, completely failed her.

He took deep, gulping breaths, the wheezing sound filling up the silence around them. Swallowing hard, his voice hoarse, his throat painfully clenching at every word, he quietly asked Sanosuke to please, gently remove the wattou.

From somewhere behind him, he could feel Saitou's disproving glare. He heard the murmured order to not tamper with the crime scene followed by Sano's bone chilling, "fuck you!" and then Sano was beside him. He heard the choked "jou-chan", such a contrast to how hateful and angry Sano's voice had been just seconds before. The great Zanza, reduced to tears, suddenly sounding so young and bewildered.

_We're lost without you, Kaoru.  
_

Did she ever knew that? Did she ever realized that she held them all together? Their little family of outcasts, she was their thread. She bound them all together. And now that she was gone, he was sure, they would all start to aimlessly drift apart, they could never be the same without her. How could they ever be together in one room now? Now that there would be an empty space where she was supposed to be? Their presence will remind them of _her _absence and who could stand that?

He could sense Sano's own battle for control, his friend's ki was aflame with hatred and loss. It took Sanosuke a few heartbeats before he could restrain the rage building inside of him. Restrain it enough that even with his white-knuckled grip at the wattou's hilt, he pulled it with careful tenderness.

And with the wattou resting against his weary shoulder, he felt it slowly, almost tenderly, slicing through his skin. Her blood mingling with his.

Sano threw the wattou in disgust, letting out the blood-curling rage that he had, just moments ago, mercilessly tamped down. He started pacing the floor, suddenly unsure of what to do next, screaming threats and shattering the silence. As if in response to Sano's rampaging, Saitou started with his "ahous!", swearing at the audacity, the idiocy – and in the background, Megumi-dono's near-silent sobbing.

"No, no, no, oh no, Kaoru-chan, no…"

All of this was lost to him. Unpinned now, he let her weight settle over him, her long hair brushing against his arms and for a moment, his heart painfully fluttered with the memory of holding her like this, just a few months back, when he left for Kyoto and told her goodbye.

_I should have kissed you then._

The bitterness of this regret made him want to weep, but no time for that now. Clutching her in an embrace that both gave and robbed him of comfort, he shifted her body, moving her as gently as possible until she was cradled in his arms. Once again, he found himself face-to-face with her blank stare, her still-bleeding cross-scar. He could hear the miniscule sound of her blood dropping on the tatami mat. A few drops now, but it in a few more minutes, it will leave a deep, dark stain all around her. He clutched her to him, inhaling her scent, jasmine - always jasmine - and now mingled with the scent of death.

Where was he getting the strength to do all this? To face this moment? He vaguely wondered, before viciously brushing aside any thought. It didn't matter. What good was _this_ strength, now that it had come too late?

He looked down at her, the sight of that cross-scar so obscenely carved into her skin. With her lying across him, he used his free arm to gingerly touch her face, ignoring all the aches from his injuries. He would have endured more, if it meant that he could save her. A broken body is nothing compared to a broken heart - or soul for that matter. Wounds will heal, but not this. Never this. There would be no healing for this kind of blow.

He gazed longingly at her face, marred now by Enishi's mark.

_Why are you still warm, Kaoru? _

He let his fingers ghost over the cross-scar, before finally settling over her parted lips, the urge to kiss her almost too much to bear – he wanted to, Kami, he wanted to, but he couldn't. Not like this. Not with her bloodied lips, not when she couldn't shyly giggle and kiss him back. Not when that dream, that _possibility_ was now lost forever.

No, he had wasted all that time being foolish and keeping his distance when all he really wanted was to be wrapped in her scent.

Here's another punishment for you.

_You smiled for him. For this. Why?_

Silently and in almost soothing gesture, he pressed his fingers against her lids, forever closing her eyes.

* * *

The last thing he remembered was Saitou ordering Megumi-dono to get a grip, dragging her over to them, quietly admonishing the doctor, "Oh, for God's sake, woman!"

He felt Megumi-dono kneeling next to him, he glanced at the fall of her dark hair, a curtain hiding her face. She seemed just a lost as he was: level-headed, take-action Megumi-dono, just sitting there, her hand curled in an angry fist across her lap. A part of him wanted to comfort her, but he knew there were no words, no gesture to make the pain stop.

Across the room, Saitou was quickly taking hold of the situation, and briefly, he felt almost grateful for him.

"You, ahou! You stop your useless pacing and help her!" Saitou paused, and in a voice that could have been mistaken as tender, he had added, almost as if in afterthought, "Clean her up before the boy wakes up."

And the thought of Yahiko – that was when he couldn't bear it anymore, that was when he finally let himself succumb to the darkness.

He fled. There were no other words for it. There was no reason to linger on, to stay at the ruined dojo. It was no longer his home, no longer his sanctuary.

A heavy darkness was edging towards him, turning his surrounding into gray-black-nothingness. A welcome respite from the onslaught of emotions that were ripping through him. He didn't know what he was doing, where he was going, but the ache inside his chest was slowly eating him, devouring him. Like acid. Seeping and burning. Liquid fire of regret. He let it wash over him. Let himself drown in it.

In his slowly darkening world, he saw a chain hanging at a gate, and with surprising savagery, he yanked it down, pulling it with everything that he's got, he felt as though his bones would snap.

The thick metal swung against him, hitting him across the chest. Numb now, he quickly wound it over his sakabatou. He stared at the winding chain covering the hilt and he saw now what it truly was: a useless, pitiful thing.

A lie.

He had wanted to fling his sakabatou into the river but decided against it. No, it wouldn't taint anything else. Just him. He will hold on to it, make sure that its chain will never be unwound. Anyone who wanted it will have to pry it out of his cold, dead fingers. The reverse blade – the sword that protects – will never be unsheathed.

Never again.

* * *

Light was creeping into the sky when he finally realized that he had walked almost to the edge of town. By now, they would have cleaned her up, dressed her in white and bandaged her scarred cheeks. She would be lying on her room, like she was sleeping. Except she would never, ever wake up.

_Who would tell Yahiko-chan?_

He throttled the urge to cry, choking on the tears that were threatening to spill. Another useless thing: tears. What good where they, when they couldn't bring anything back?

Away from them, from her, he didn't fight the incoming rush of guilt, of pain and anger. He let it fuel him as he chased after the darkness, the coldness, the numbing nothingness. He raged and cursed and gripping the chained sakabatou, he pounded the ground before him, blindly slashing and swinging. And despite his efforts not to, he started crying, brokenly.

After an hour of this – maybe a lifetime – he lost track of time, he found himself bone-weary, tired like he had never been tired before. He couldn't feel anything, not even his own beating heart.

All he wanted was to sit down and never think, never feel again. Never want again. Never hope again.

And then he knew, he knew exactly where he needed to go.

-end-

**Author's Note: **Firstly, I have a confession to make. I used to have an account, years ago, under the name "Yuki". The very same "Yuki" who abandoned "Mismatched" and all the other RK and CCS fics (see Bio). I have forgotten my password and the e-mail tied to that account has been deactivated so I have no idea how I can access that account (help!).

RK has been my first ever fandom. My first ever fic was for RK. And I just love this series. Like, it's a forever thing. I would have wanted to go on writing RK-fics but I just, suddenly, I didn't know how to continue and then I discovered other fandoms, wrote for them and pulled the disappearing act once more. Sometimes it's real life, sometimes it's a really bad, monster of Writer's Block. I cannot promise anything but I do hope that I get to finish all the stories that I have started.

And as always, I would appreciate any feedback, reviews, comments and/or suggestion.

9/9: Did some editing because, eh *scratch head*, I re-read it and it just needed some things to be added and removed and I'm sort of okay now after doing some revising. I was a little unhappy with the first version, not that I'm completely satisfied with this one-but, yeah, I think this version is just a little bit better.


	2. Chapter 2

**Never Again**  
Purplemud (Yuki)

**Summary**: He woke up from a deep sleep only to be thrust into a nightmare, one that he couldn't escape and one that would never end.  
**Disclaimer**: Standard disclaimers apply. I do not own, nor will I ever, own RK.  
**Authors Note**: Holy wow, I wrote something again!

Consciousness came back the morning after the attack at the dojo. Nothing came at first, just a stillness, an empty blankness – no sound, no thoughts, no feelings, and then slowly, sluggishly, the waking of his senses. He vaguely remembered the last moments before he had fainted, it was like a distant echo of sensation. Pain and darkness. Those were the last thing he could recall.

It took a moment before the first coherent thought entered his brain. It was like a lightning bolt, the startling recognition of his _being_: Kami-sama, he was still alive! But when he tried to move, he winced at the sudden explosion of pain that shot from his sides, spreading upward, piercing his head.

Injured.

This wasn't particularly surprising; at least not as much as discovering that he had survived last night. Unsure of the extent of his injuries, he made a quick check, gingerly flexing his right hand, before curling it into a fist. He grimaced as he did the same with his left hand. That wasn't so bad. A little bit of sting in the muscles, but he'd still be able to hold a shina. Swinging it though, was something he wasn't looking forward to doing any time in the near future.

With this thought in mind, he cautiously raised his arms, (yep, no hundred downward swings for now, Busu-sama), then his legs, and finally he tried to sit up, each tentative movement causing, at first, a slight discomfort, progressing slowly to a sharper and more focused ache as he moved.

Groaning softly as his muscles protested, he gracelessly flopped back down the welcoming warmth of the mattress, mentally replaying the last moments of his battle, trying to account for the long list of aches he was feeling.

Both his arms and sides were punctured badly, and that undoubtedly was the searing pain currently plaguing him, but no broken bones it seemed, thank Kami. He wasn't encased in any kind of sling and not wrapped like a mummified-version of Sano's hand. Minimum bandages, as far as he could tell.

Somewhat convinced that he wasn't suffering from any permanent injury, he finally let the rush of pride fill up his chest. Eyes still closed, he let out a small, self-satisfied chuckle. He had survived. Myoujin Yahiko, Tokyo's Best – no, no, no, Tokyo's _Fiercest_ Samurai, didn't just simply survive, he fucking _won_ the battle!

He felt a shiver go down his spine and he marveled at how thrilling it felt, winning a fight despite the odds being against him. More than that, Kenshin had put his faith in him, trusted him to not screw things up. Sure, he had fought tough opponents in the past, but this was different. Kenshin had specifically asked him to fight in his stead and it was like… it was too cool for words. He had envisioned countless of scenarios where he would come swooping in to save the day, be the hero, for once, and to finally have that moment, to have Kenshin give him that chance, it was gratifying but strangely terrifying too.

He wasn't sure if he _had _saved the day this time, having inconveniently lost consciousness, but it didn't matter. He had defeated that freak, Otowa. He had fought and _didn't _give up. Even when the pain had been too painful to bear, like a physical weight pressing down on him until he could barely stand up, he had endured. And for the first time since he had started training, Yahiko felt that he was truly on his way to becoming a great swordsman, like Kenshin.

Like his father.

Of course, he thought a little sullenly, he had gotten his ass seriously kicked and had inevitably passed-out before he could even give Kaoru a smug, '_did you see that?!_' look.

Yahiko would've enjoyed that moment. He wasn't always sure about his training with Kaoru and not because she was girl. Well, ok at first, that had been his issue, because what do girls know about fighting anyway? They were all silly and _girly_. But Kaoru quickly, effectively and very permanently erased that notion. They moved differently, sure, but it didn't mean they weren't strong. As Kaoru had often demonstrated, their strength didn't rely on sheer brute force. Because they were naturally at a physical disadvantage, not having the same muscular built, it was all about precision. And since he was still at the same disadvantage, it made sense that he learned and perfect Kaoru's style. Yahiko understood all that. Sometimes though it felt like her approach to training him was just a way for her to torture him because she _can_.

She knew he was impatient, wanting to be strong as quickly as he could, but she'd insist on taking it slow, building his strength, making him do endless drills that he thought were completely unnecessary. Now though, all those hundred swings seemed to have worked. He wouldn't have lasted as long without the many exercises Kaoru had forced him to do. It had greatly improved his stamina and even his tolerance for pain.

So maybe Kaoru's training style did make sense – something he wasn't going to publicly share. She already has a big fat head (_Kenjutsu Princess, my ass!_) being the only woman in town who was skilled in kendo. It wouldn't do her any good, puffing up her ego like that.

Yahiko had to admit though that there were some perks being Kaoru's protégé. He did get certain jealous looks from some of the senapais at the other dojos. But that was only because they had yet to taste Kaoru's cooking and they had never been subjected to her temper tantrums, which more often than not involved some violence. Still, it's only fair to give credit where it's due and Kaoru did do a good job training him. So maybe on their next training session, he'd try not to complain so much.

Yahiko wondered if he'd get something – a reward perhaps, for effectively using the Hawatari. He at least deserved something _really_ nice. He smiled at the thought. A new shinai sounded like a good idea. Or some new hakamas. Nothing too expensive, because Kaoru didn't exactly have the money. Maybe it doesn't have to be something that she needed to buy. He can ask her to move him into a bigger room at the dojo. Or demand lesser household chores. Surely, washing the dishes would be beneath him now. With so many ideas popping into his head, Yahiko pried his eyes open, his smile slowly stretching into a huge grin.

A second passed and then frowning, he wondered, _what's missing_? Something was definitely not right. It was like grasping for a word at the tip of his tongue. There but not there. He tried to put a name to it – this feeling. This absence. What was it?

Yahiko waited impatiently as things slowly came into focus. The haze of Megumi's medicine was starting to lose it effects and he immediately recognized the all-too-familiar scent: iodine, unidentifiable pungencies, mint, balms, and the barely-there, faded metallic smell.

The Oguni clinic. But his injuries didn't seem _that_ bad. Pushing aside his unease, Yahiko decided that being in the clinic _was_ a good sign. If he was the only one occupying the clinic's single room, it meant he was the only one that needed this kind of medical attention.

Wincing at the stabbing pain that accompanied the movement, Yahiko lifted his head to look around. Blobs of color danced before him: white, blue, a flash of red. He heard someone speaking and it took him a while to make out the words. It was Megumi, announcing that he was awake, rushing to his side.

He felt her fingers poking and prodding his shoulder and contemplated if it would be worth the laughs if he tried to bite her. A second later, he heard a soft grunt from Sanosuke and then eerily, wrongly followed by silence. And in that moment, he knew _exactly_ what was wrong.

Suddenly sitting up, ignoring the burning pain that was spreading from his ribs, he asked in a hoarse voice: "Where is Kaoru?"

* * *

Because it had always been her.

Whenever he got knocked down after a fight, the first thing that would always greet him when he woke up was Kaoru's tearful blue eyes, blinking down at him. It was the sight of her worried, pinched-up face that would slowly come into focus as soon as he regained consciousness.

She'd always let out a deep sigh, like she'd been holding her breath the whole time and then, the unmistakable look of pride shining in her face, quickly followed by a choked, "_Yahiko, you brat. Don't you ever do that again!_"

Sometimes, she'd cry a little, especially if he had been out cold for a long time. She'd try to hide it of course, sniffling and rubbing her nose, glaring at him through watery eyes. He absolutely hated it when she cried and for some strange reason, the sight of her in tears filled his stomach with little knots of dread that quickly travelled up to his throat, turning into balls of unshed tears threatening to spill. Annoyed at her ability to make him feel like a child, he'd admonish her for being such a girl, "_I'm fine you ugly ninny!_"

And Megumi or Kenshin would have to intervene so that Kaoru wouldn't smack him back to unconsciousness. That was their routine. It was the way they reassured each other that everything will be alright. But today, for the first time since he had become part of the Kenshin-gumi, there was no Kaoru. No tearful, worried blue eyes. Just this eerie, blank silence_._

"Yahiko, you shouldn't get up yet." Megumi said, pressing her palm against his chest. He could feel how cold Megumi's fingers were. It was like being touched by pointy icicles. She let her hands linger, as though trying to smooth out invisible creases on his gi. "Don't strain yourself." Her voice was low and it even sounded _gentle. _

Yahiko dumbly stared at her. The older girl had never acted this way before. Especially whenever she treated them; she had always been bossy. Forceful, even. Always cold and distant, like they weren't even friends, like she didn't know them at all. She had never shown any signs of distress or even compassion. Kaoru had once told him that she had envied Megumi's ability to distance herself from her patients. She was a true professional. A real doctor. That was what Kaoru had told him. He'd never really given it much thought, until now, when it was obvious that this Megumi was treating him differently –way_ too _differently.

Her touch was almost motherly, but strangely, there was nothing comforting about it. Her voice was all wrong too, shaky and nervous. Yahiko could feel his stomach slowly tightening into tiny little knots. Impatiently, he swatted her hands away. "Where the heck is Kaoru?"

Megumi blinked at him. As though she didn't quite understand what he was saying. "Really, Yahiko-kun, you're going to ruin all my hard work! Settle down, will you?"

The words sounded like something Megumi would say, but her hand was trembling as she absentmindedly patted him in the head. Her blatant disregard of his question made Yahiko grit his teeth. How many times did he need to ask? It was a simple question. Feeling vaguely insulted, he jerked his head away from her. He didn't want to be touched. He wanted an answer. _Now_. He glared at Megumi, his jaws clenching at the sight of her pale face, the tired sagging of her shoulders, the tear-stains, that he had just noticed, standing out, stark-white against her cheeks.

Yahiko didn't think he could ever dislike Megumi. She had saved his life when Beshimi had poisoned him and she always made sure that they were restored back to health every time they did something brave and stupid. And she was always funny, even when sometimes she said mean things to Kaoru – of course, he did too, but he was allowed, because everyone knew that he really didn't mean it – but Yahiko was surprised at the sudden, inexplicable burst of anger that he felt towards her.

He calmly pushed Megumi's hands away. "Stop that. Don't touch me." He ignored the puffy redness of her eyes, the hurt and confused look that settled on her face.

"Yahiko-kun," Megumi seemed to be trembling with the sheer effort not to either slap him silly or to start crying. Her face was so terribly contorted; her lips pressed tightly together, eyes clouded over.

"Get away from me!" He finally screamed when Megumi gently tried to take his hand. His voice reverberated inside his already throbbing head and for a moment he thought he was going to pass out from the sudden, vicious pain that exploded inside his chest.

_Kaoru's supposed to be here! She's the one who's supposed to be taking care of me. Not you! Not you!_

"Oi, calm the fuck down." Sano said coming between them as Megumi backed away, a small, wounded sound escaping from her.

Yahiko watched as she blindly staggered towards the corner of the room, her two hands covering her mouth as though she too, was surprised at how broken she sounded. Blinking back tears, confused at his sudden outburst, Yahiko stared at Sano's face. Sano's face was an ugly mask of forced calmness.

Finally understanding the situation he was in, Yahiko took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, certain that if he continued to act like a petulant child; he will be treated like one. That was how it always had been, dealing with adults. He had learned this a long time ago. And so in a steady voice, as grown up as he could, he asked again, slowly, without any emotion, "Where is Kaoru?"

Sano's blank expression wavered for a moment, and then his eyes dimmed. Like a light suddenly going out. Yahiko could clearly see the haunted look crossing Sano's features. He seemed to have aged overnight. His always jolly, carefree, 'Laugh at the Face of Danger' attitude suddenly gone, replaced by this horrible somber expression that didn't belong on his face. Sano looked like a man who would never laugh out loud again and somehow, Yahiko knew.

_Something terrible happened. Something so awful everything had changed. Megumi is no longer Megumi and Sano is no longer Sano. _

Yahiko could feel his heart painfully thudding inside his chest. He looked from Sano to Megumi, and if he knew how young he looked right that instant, his eyes wide and pleading, his face softening, his features suddenly smooth, unmarred by his usual scowls, his smug smile, if he had known how he had suddenly stripped himself bare, he would have quickly raised his arms to hide the ten year old boy, whose existence he rarely ever acknowledged. Fear had suddenly gripped him and nothing mattered anymore.

Without answering him, Sano abruptly stood up, blocking his view of Megumi, of everything, actually. All he could see right now was Sano's bandaged hand, gripping his shoulder, trying to get him to lie down again. "Look, Fox says that you shouldn't strain yourself—"

Yahiko shook his head, cutting him off. "Don't, Sano. Don't treat me like _that_."

Sano let out an explosive breath, followed by muttered curses. He shoved his hand into his hair and for a second there, it looked like he was going to start pulling his hair out. But he didn't. Instead he paced in front of Yahiko.

Sano looked like a caged animal. Back and forth, back and forth in a tight small circle, swearing each time he found the end of the room and then turning to go back to where he started. He'd stop and open his mouth, shake his head and re-start his little march. Their eyes met and for a second, Yahiko thought he could hear Sano's voice inside his head, pleading with him to not ask this question. To not make him say it - this information he was asking, the answer that he was demanding, if it was voiced out loud, it would become final, it would become the truth.

Yahiko almost said it, almost declared, 'Ok, forget it. Don't tell me. I don't want to know.' But that wasn't true, it wasn't what he wanted and he wasn't about to back down now. It was ultimately, a battle of patience and because that particular virtue had always been part of Kaoru's training, Yahiko easily sat through Sano's seemingly endless pacing.

Sano appeared to not have stopped at all, but inevitably settled into stillness. He looked so tired and worn out, like he hadn't slept for years. Everything in his movement spoke of deep, bone-tired weariness. He and Megumi shared the same haunted look, the dark circles under their eyes a testament to something they have shared overnight. Some unnamable, unspeakable horror.

"Jou-" Sano started, and then stopped to swallow, his voice catching. "She's… she's at the dojo."

_She's at the dojo_.

Yahiko waited breathlessly for Sano to elaborate, but Sano had clamped his mouth shut, the muscles in his jaws working, clenching and unclenching. The stubborn way Sano held his chin made it more than obvious that that was all he was going to say.

_She's at the dojo_.

It could mean a thousand different things. Really, it could. Yahiko didn't want to think of the worst possible thing. He shoved that possibility aside. No, not that. Something bad, but not _that_. _That_ would be impossible. It could never happen. Not to Kaoru.

Without another word, Yahiko pushed aside the blankets covering him and started to stand up, pausing as a wave of dizziness assaulted him, almost knocking him off balance. Beside him, Sano had his fist clenched, cautious of helping him, careful not to set him off with any offer of assistance. The gesture was not lost to him and Yahiko would've gratefully acknowledge it with a nod of his head, but he was suddenly eye level with Sano's bandaged hand and the first think he noticed were the dark red stains covering it. It couldn't have been Sano's blood. The stains were all wrong. Not on his knuckles, but on the edges of his finger. It was like he had held something bloodied.

Doubling over, Yahiko fought the urge to be sick. He made gagging, gasping sound, clutching his middle area. He could hear Megumi muttering protests as he took two deep breaths, finally managing to get a hold of himself. Wordlessly, arms still wrapped around his injured body, he staggered towards the door, determined to make it out of the clinic, walk all the way back to the dojo and see for himself.

_See for himself…what?_

Behind him, he heard the sound of scuffling. Megumi pushing Sano probably. "Where do you think you're going, Yahiko? You come back here, right this instant! I mean it!" There was an agitated sigh, followed by, "You idiot, don't just stand there! Do something!"

Not unexpectedly, he felt a warm, heavy hand on his shoulder, stopping him. Yahiko made a move to shrug it off, but Sano merely tightened his hold, squeezing painfully, it nearly made his knees buckle and fold.

"We'll take you to her, I promise. Just…just give Foxy here a few minutes to check on your wounds. Otherwise, we'll never hear the end of it," Sano leaned down, and added in a whisper, "she'll just scream at us all the way to the dojo. It'll be scandalous. And noisy. You know how loud she can get."

Yahiko blinked up at Sano. His words were light, delivered in the same usual, joking manner, with the familiar cocky tilting of his head, but Sano's eyes betrayed him. And Yahiko realized how hard it must be for Sano and Megumi to act like this - like everything was going to be ok – like they could afford to joke and bicker with each other. It was a show. All for him, for his sake. It was the kind of kindness that he couldn't ignore, couldn't just brush aside and walk away from. He had no choice. Feeling strangely defeated, Yahiko finally conceded. "Five minutes," he muttered through his gritted teeth.

His voice brooked no argument. He'd let Megumi do her job and then he will go to Kaoru. They would have to knock him down again if they wanted him to stay at the clinic. Yahiko defiantly lifted his face, forcing Sano and Megumi to meet his eyes.

Megumi was shaking her head but Sano took hold of her wrist, forcing her to look at him. Yahiko watched as his two friends looked at each other, a silent communication passing between them. Finally, Megumi very slowly dipped her chin, barely a nod, a gesture of surrender. "Five minutes" she answered curtly.

* * *

His mind was playing tricks on him. Megumi's medicine was doing some serious damage with his ability to think rationally. It was the only possible explanation. He remembered waking up in the clinic, impatiently sitting down as Megumi cleaned his wound and changed his bandages. He remembered asking where Kenshin was and listening to Sano's reply, which didn't make _any_ sense.

_"He's just…_gone_. After the fight, we couldn't find him, he just wasn't there anymore."_

He remembered glaring at Sano, accusing of him obviously getting things wrong. He remembered his labored walked to the dojo, mindful of the stares, the pitiful looks and wary whispering.

'S_o sad, what happened…and so young, it's terrible, really…'_

He remembered all these things, but vaguely. It was like watching himself, like he had been carved apart from everything and he knew this was what had happened but he couldn't remember being _in that _moment.

It was so odd.

There he was, surrounded by neighbors, and he knew they were sorry for him and at the back of his mind, he felt a faint pulse of anger, the sudden urge to lash out at them. He was afraid of what _he_ might do. He felt completely out of control – not just of the situation but of himself. And before he could figure out the best way to deal with this new and strange reality, he felt himself abruptly stopping, bowing his head, hunching up his shoulder and just _bolting_ like a crazed little boy. Running like he was trying to escape some nightmare monster that was relentlessly chasing him.

He could hear his own ragged breathing, but he couldn't feel anything else. Not even the raging of his heart against his ribcage. From a distance, he could sense Sano and Megumi chasing after him, yelling for him to stop but he couldn't. He felt numbed. Away from all the pain, from whatever it was that was happening around him.

There was no escaping it, that at least he was sure of. In fact, he was headed right into it, completely unprepared. But it didn't matter though. There was no turning back. There was no honor in hiding at the clinic, in letting Sano and Megumi bear this nightmare by themselves. However bad things were, he was part of _this _family. Kaoru's family. And so, in his mind, there was only one place to go back to: home.

* * *

Gasping for breath, a little boy, staggered towards the gate, limping lightly, before, as though suddenly running out of steam, awkwardly stopping, arms lifelessly dangling at his sides.

His mouth opened and closed, like a fish yanked out of the water. A sense of disbelief slowly blossoming on his face, widening his child-like eyes, the small-O of his mouth getting bigger by the second as he stood in front of the familiar dojo gate. Or what remained of it, anyway.

Yahiko could see it so clearly inside is head. The little boy was _him_. And he _was_ the little boy. But he hadn't felt like that in a long time. And for a moment, Yahiko wasn't sure anymore if he was awake or was still drugged up and sleeping at the clinic.

Because _this _couldn't be real. The damage to the dojo was ridiculous. It was as though a bomb had gone off. Everything seemed to have been ripped apart or blown into pieces. Splintered wood were scattered everywhere, leaving a trail of destruction that was too terrible for comprehension.

It took him a moment to notice a couple of police officers milling about, some of them kneeling down and trying to gather pieces of broken wood, examining the blunt edges, quietly talking amongst themselves. At the other side were some of Sano's friends, wary of the police force and keeping a safe distance from them. They were diligently clearing off the debris that littered the whole street. Some of them were farther back, trying to prevent a small group of on lookers, who were craning their heads, trying to see what all the commotion was all about.

Yahiko's eyes searched through the crowd, hoping to prove Sano wrong. There were familiar faces – students from other dojos, he numbly realized – putting up banners, talking in low, somber voices. It seemed to Yahiko that everyone in town was there, in front of the dojo, all except for the one person that matter the most. The one person that he _needed _to be here.

_Kenshin, where are you?_

He stood in one spot, desperately turning in circles, wanting to catch a glimpse, a flash of red hair, a sign, something, that would let him know that he wasn't being abandoned all over again.

_Please be here. Please be here. Please don't leave. Please. _

It didn't take long for the crowd to notice him: injured little boy, standing amidst all the chaos, a forlorn figure. The moment they realized who he was, they all seemed to stop whatever it was that they were doing and just _stared_ at him. Silence settled over them. And for the first time, Yahiko noticed how everyone would look at him but would not meet his eyes.

The faint pulsing anger that he felt earlier came back full force, slamming into him. He couldn't bear the way they were looking at him, the way they were stomping disrespectfully around Kaoru's dojo – _his _home! Before Yahiko even knew what was happening, he had launched himself at one of the policeman, angrily pushing him away from the gate. "What the fuck are you all looking at?! Get the fuck out of here! Get out!"

He watched as everyone contritely bowed their heads, murmuring quick apologies. They all shuffled away from him, giving him the same pitying looks the women in their neighborhood had given him. This infuriated him even more. His clenched fist rose, shaking with unexpected dark fury. He might have said a lot of awful things before Sano finally caught up to him, yanking him inside the gate.

Yahiko didn't have words anymore. He hated everyone. Angrily, defiantly, _childishly_, he kicked Sano in the knee, viciously knocking the bandaged hand away and blindly heading towards Kaoru's room. Megumi was breathlessly following behind him, pleading with him to stop. But he couldn't make himself stop. He was barreling towards the courtyard, into the kitchen, then the dining hall and further, deeper into the house, past his own room, and then Kenshin's. Every step he was taking felt like huge painful leaps, as though the house had suddenly become bigger and it was taking him an inordinate amount of time to reach Kaoru's room.

His lungs felt like it was on fire. Like all the anger he had felt was concentrated there, right next to his painfully thudding heart. And Yahiko felt that he was going to explode from trying to keep that rage in check.

And then all of a sudden, he was there. Right in front of Kaouru's room. Her shoji door was closed. And he knew. Everything clicked inside his head and he _knew_. And all the anger swooshed out of him, like a great big hole had been punched right through his rib cage and now, there was nothing inside of him.

* * *

Yahiko stood motionless. He felt emptied out. Hollow. Like he was made of paper and if he reached out to open the door, he'd rip himself apart. He knew he had to go inside Kaoru's room; it was what he came here for, right? But did he really want to? His growing confusion was only heightened by the silence that was surrounding him. He couldn't remember the dojo being this quiet. And so still. It felt so utterly empty. And the smell. It was all wrong. It smelled like incense and something _clean_. Too clean.

"You kicked me in the knee." The statement was from Sano, who was leaning against the wall, watching him with darkened eyes.

Yahiko turned to look at the older man, his mind trying to catch up with everything that had happened. He did vaguely remember kicking Sano. "Did it hurt?"

"Fuck yeah, it did." And Yahiko watched as Sano slid down the floor, casually stretching his long legs in front of him. Megumi was looking at them with a strange expression on her face and Yahiko could understand if they were more than just a little wary of him. He would be too, considering how he had been acting ever since he'd woken up.

Yahiko thought he ought to apologize but an apology seemed to be the last thing Sano wanted and he wasn't in the mood to be sorry for his anger. He felt he had a right to that. So instead he asked, "He isn't here, is he?"

Sano shook his head. "Nope. Not here."

Feeling betrayed, Yahiko turned away, blankly staring at Kaoru's door. They just stood silently like this, waiting for his next move.

A thought suddenly occurred to him and he nervously licked his lips before he could voice out the terrible question that, he realized, was stopping him from going inside Kaoru's room. "How does—how does she look like?"

Megumi sucked in her breath but it was Sano who answered him. In a weary voice, Sano tried to assure him that Kaoru looked fine, "Like…like she's just sleeping."

But she _wasn't just_ sleeping.

The thought struck him like a physical blow and Yahiko felt his shoulder slumping, a heavy weight settling over him. Swallowing through the burning lumps lodged inside his throat, he finally, without warning, entered the room, sliding the door open and closing it in one swift movement, before either Megumi or Sanosuke suddenly decide that he shouldn't or before he changed his mind and realize that he _couldn't_.

* * *

It was pure instinct, closing his eyes and he welcomed this temporary blindness. He knew he had to face this, but he wasn't ready just yet. He didn't think he'd ever be. There was nothing that could prepare him for this. It wasn't like he had spent nights wondering what he would do if this ever happened and because frankly, he didn't think something like this could ever happened, especially not to her. It was _impossible_.

Impossible. What a stupid word. It shouldn't exist at all. He hated that word. The way it so easily rolled off people's tongue. _Im-po-ssible_. It was a two-faced, dishonest word. All it gave was false hope. A child's silly, laughable, hope. He obviously didn't know anything.

_Not impossible after all._

He had to take another moment to take in a deep breath, steeling himself, steadying his nerves and making sure that he wasn't going to cry. If he started bawling like a baby, he was sure that Megumi would barge in and take him away before he even saw her.

He _needed _to see her. Otherwise, he'd never really believe it.

Finally, with his heart briefly stopping, before his courage could falter, he opened his eyes.

* * *

Kaoru's room was dimly lit. It took him a while to let his eyes adjust, figure out where things were. Her room was the biggest in the dojo, but sparsely furnished. He very rarely ventured inside her room. It was her sanctuary and it was one of the few unspoken rules that he respected and never even tried to break. No matter how tempting it had been.

It didn't take long for his eyes to finally get accustomed to the darkness and when he finally saw her, lying like that, motionless and so, so quiet, the first thing he thought was: _this must be a joke. Kaoru is just getting back at me for all the times that I had been horrible to her, calling her names, for being lazy, for grudgingly becoming her student, for all those time I had rolled my eyes at her when she was trying to teach me how to wield a bokken. _

And so inappropriately, the first words that came out of his mouth were: "Cut it out, busu. I know what you're trying to do, it's not funny. You know I didn't mean it. You know I was just kidding. So just stop it, ok? Just _stop it_ and wake up!"

His voice was low and harsh, filled with a kind of longing that he hadn't ever realized he was capable of. It was a whispered plea, one that she didn't seem to hear. His eyes searched for the slightest movement of her chest – any hint, any sign at all that she was still breathing. But… she looked so _cold_.

Not a joke then.

From the other side of the shoji door, he heard Megumi asking if he was alright. "I'm-" but he stopped there. What was he supposed to say to that? He wasn't fine. Whatever was alright, whatever was fine; he was miles away from that. In fact, he could say that he would never be fine after this. Never.

There was a brief exchange between Sano and Megumi, their whispered conversation was muted. After a few seconds, Sano must have convinced Megumi to let him be. He could hear the tentative shuffling of their feet, but was surprised when he suddenly felt Megumi leaning towards the door, her palm pressing against the paper screen. "Don't-don't stay too long, Yahiko."

Megumi's voice briefly faltered but when he answered with his own shaky, "Hai," they quietly left.

After making sure that they were really gone, he walked forward, his eyes staring straight ahead, unseeing. Yahiko had to take a moment, a sharp painful breath, before he could finally fold his knees – which felt brittle and worn – to kneel beside Kaoru and properly look at her.

The first thing he saw was her hands. Her totally ungirly, calloused hands, clasped so primly together. It looked so docile. So incapable of the powerful way she'd swing her bokken. He wondered about the stupid idiot who did this. They didn't know Kaoru at all. She would've wanted to be holding her shinai.

"I'll get that fixed." He told her, finally moving his glance to her face, his throat clenching at the sight of her closed eyes, her pale lips, tinted with a sickly colored blue. Not like the blue of her eyes. It was completely devoid of any vividness.

The next thing he noticed was the small square bandage covering the left side of her face. He felt an invisible iron band slowly wrapping itself around his chest, the cold steel pressing painfully against his ribs, making it hard to breathe. The cut on her face, he knew what it meant.

It was a personal wound. The bastard had gotten real close to her. He shuddered at the thought. He could clearly picture her, raising her shinai, defiant as always. Defiant until the end. She had probably fought back and towering above her, Yukishiro had impatiently brought his hand up. Yahiko could see the arc of the blade, its silver glint as it moved towards Kaoru, the splatter of blood.

"I hope you at least got to hit him real hard, Kaoru." Her name came out as a choking sound and Yahiko had a sudden urge to claw at his throat. Claw through skin and bones, and dislodge the tears that were stuck inside his throat. He clenched his hands into tight fists, breathing noisily through his mouth, a sudden rush of memories slamming into him.

He'd been here before. Exactly like this. Kneeling, staring down at a pale face. It was a different face, of course, older. It had been a pretty face once, but there were deep lines of sadness and weariness etched on the skin.

Even in her death, his mother had been frowning. The tired downward curve of her mouth, the sorrowful arch of her eyebrows, Yahiko remembered it all too well. He had also been just as terrified and angry and lost and trying his best not to cry. Not to let the tears fall. He didn't want to start crying, because if he did, he might never, ever stop.

* * *

It was like losing his mother again. Only this time, he was also losing his teacher, his friend, his sister, his home. He was losing everything all over again. Now that Kaoru was gone, he didn't have anything left.

The iron clamp on his chest was, squeezing, squeezing…

_You aren't supposed to leave me alone, Kaoru._

His clenched fist pounded helplessly into the tatami mat. The gesture felt so insignificant, so useless. The thudding sound it made was equally pitifully small, quickly swallowed by the silence. He bowed his head and made a strangled sound. His throat felt raw and it was so hard to swallow.

While he had been knocked unconscious, drained from his fight, that Yukishiro bastard had hurt Kaoru. And no one had come to save her. Had she been scared? She had probably thought that any minute now, any second now, Kenshin would come. Or _he _would come. He'd come barreling from out of nowhere, hitting Enishi with enough force to knock him down and it will be all over. She'd sigh with relief and ask them not to hurt Yukishiro too much. Kaoru didn't understand wickedness and cruelty. She was all about forgiving and second chances. But there was no forgiveness in this. And no second chances.

_Yukishiro Enishi. _

_I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. You aren't supposed to leave me alone, Kaoru. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate..._

Yahiko hadn't realized that he had started crying. He hadn't meant to. He wanted to be strong, but there was no stopping the tears. They converged at the tip of his nose, on his chin, plonking uselessly at his clenched fist. Sniffling, he brought his arms against his eyes, trying to contain the sob that was trying to rip past his throat.

He had always known it but had never acknowledged it. Now it was all he could think of. Kaoru is – was – his family. She had taken him in when no else would. She was the one who had asked Kenshin to check up on him, if she hadn't, Kenshin wouldn't have come barging into that filthy yakuza den. In a way, he was glad that Kaoru never got to see where he had really come from. If she had, she would've marched down there and tried to knock Yakuza heads. She cared that deeply.

She had opened her home to him and her dojo. More than that, she had opened her heart to him. Kaoru took care of him. She was the one who woke him up early in the morning to make sure that he didn't skip on his exercises. She instilled in him discipline and a different kind of courage – the courage to not deliberately hurt anyone, just because he _can_. She showed him how to be kind, not because it gets you out of trouble, but because kindness was kindness. It should be given freely, whether a person deserved it or not. She took pride in his accomplishment. She hurt when he hurt. She loved him like he was her own blood and he loved her back, just as fiercely as she did and now she was gone.

Yahiko made small hiccupping sounds. Like a small, wounded child. But Yahiko didn't care. Kaoru was gone. Forever.

She wasn't supposed to leave him like this, like everyone in his family had left him. She was the one who's supposed to stay and make everything all right. Kaoru was supposed to be here, now, _always_.

Tears freely streaming down his face, Yahiko let himself fall forward, his head lightly resting against Kaoru's shoulder. He couldn't stop crying, he didn't know how. He was lost and no one was going to save him now.

* * *

His eyes were burning. Dry, but burning. Yahiko wasn't sure how long he had been sitting in the dark, crying useless tears. He briefly touched his cold, damp cheeks before quickly wiping his face dry. He seemed to have used up all his tears and there was nothing else but this strange empty calmness as he looked down at Kaoru's face.

It was her, but it wasn't her, because how can it be her? It would mean that she was not going to wake up. Never again. And that this would be the last time he'd ever see her, because tomorrow, they will take her and bury her and...

His mind couldn't quite go there yet. He couldn't allow himself to think of anything further because at the back of his mind, he was still expecting Kaoru to suddenly appear behind him, smack him in the head and order him to clean the floor _again _and this time; make sure he got every speck of dust.

But she wasn't going to do that. Of course she wasn't.

Yahiko closed his eyes. He woke up from a deep sleep only to be thrust into a nightmare, one that he couldn't escape and one that would never end. He wanted to curl into a ball and sleep again, right here, beside Kaoru and maybe he'd wake up and things would be different.

It was too tempting. To just lie down and not _think or feel_ anything.

But… Yahiko swallowed hard, taking deep breaths. Kaoru never, _ever_ gave up. However lonely or afraid or hurt she had been when Kenshin had left for Kyoto, she had, in the end, pulled through. She had stood up, determined to find Kenshin, bring him back home.

She had always been strong. Strong enough to make Kenshin stay, to make him come back home. She was strong enough to let him and Sano become part of her life – regardless of the consequences, even though she had to double her work to feed them and keep a roof above them. Kaoru had been the strongest of them; she had kept them all together.

And because he was a student of the Kamiya Kasshin, because this was what Kaoru had taught him, he will honor her by doing what she would have wanted. He will keep her family together. He wasn't just going to let everyone start disappearing. Kaoru would absolutely hate that.

Looking down at her, Yahiko could feel his resolve hardening. He knew exactly what he will do. He raised his arms, scrubbing his face, sniffling softly. "No more tears, Kaoru. I promise. I'll look for Kenshin. I'll find him, and he…we'll say good bye to you and then," he clenched his fist, "we'll make Enishi pay for what he'd done. And after that… after that, we'll take care of the dojo. I will never let your name be forgotten. Never. Your – _our _– dojo will be the best in all of Tokyo. In all of Japan," Yahiko paused to swallow the new batch of tears that were threatening to spill. "They will know all about you. Your kindness and your strength – you're cooking too." He smiled bitterly at the small joke, already missing the way Kaoru would admonish him for teasing her. "I'll keep your name alive Kaoru, always. I promise."

There was a strange calmness settling over him as he made all these promises. Here were things to do. To work on. To achieve. He wouldn't be so hopeless and helpless.

Yahiko would do whatever it takes to keep his promises. It wouldn't take all the pain away, but it should help. Be busy. Keep moving. Keep living.

"I know you'll be watching over me Kaoru. And that… you will always be with me. With us. So… please, please help me, ok? And…and thank you, Kaoru. For everything." He bowed deeply, his head resting against the tatami mat. He meant every word of it. He will make sure that he lived as Kaoru had – always with kindness. It will be painful and lonely and it wasn't going to be easy without her, but together, him and Sano and Megumi and Kenshin – maybe they can heal each other's wound. Maybe it will be enough.

* * *

End Notes: So, uhm, maybe this won't be a one shot after all? But as far as plots are concerned, I still don't have any idea where exactly this story is going. Maybe it'll be just a series of one-shots featuring everyone's reaction post-Jinchuu and then something happy at the end.

I hope Yahiko isn't too OOC. I can't ever remember if he used any suffixes when referring to Kaoru. It was always just her name, right? Anyway, as always, feel free to let me know what you think. Your reviews and feedback and much, much appreciated.

Also, I did just a bit of research about funerals during the Meiji era. In one instance, there was a mention of banners being made for the dead. I was thinking the dojos were Kaoru sometimes taught would have made banners for her. I hope that explains the banners. I'll try to be more historically accurate next time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Never Again**  
Standard Disclaimers apply. Me don't own. Never have and never will.  
Warning: Uhm, more angst? 

It was – or it should have been – quiet and peaceful, the perfect time (frankly, the _only _time) to sort out the thousand darkened, muddled thoughts swimming inside her head. She felt strangely scattered. Like parts of her were flying away and she couldn't quite pull herself together, to be whole and functioning.

There were moments when she'd be startled by someone offering a quick, gentle pat on her hand, a murmur of sympathy, grave and grayed faces, smiling sadly, almost apologetically at her.

There's a fraction of a second where wonder and panic would seize her heart: _someone died?!_

And then, she'd remember and it would all come back in a rush, with a force of speeding train charging towards her, slamming her with the awful memory.

Because she was, first and foremost, a logical person, she'd like to think that this death – and she had seen many – had somehow unhinged her. Not in the emotional, maddened with grief kind of way, but with how she had dealt with the aftermath…this, the way she had acted, practically abandoning Yahiko and Sano, giving up on Kenshin – this wasn't what she would have done, at all.

It was like she had reverted back to her old self when she had let Kanryuu control her life and she had helplessly followed him, because she thought there was just no other way. She had vowed never to be that Megumi again, that she would rise up and face everything head on, even if it was something as hopeless and final as death. But she didn't. She had failed everyone. But mostly, she had failed herself.

* * *

Facts mattered to her. They were hard, tangible evidence, something that she could trust and hold on to. And she strove hard to focus on these.

Fact Number One: ever since she had gotten herself separated from her family, this was the first time death had touched her again, on a personal level. Not that she and Kaoru were the closest of friends, but they had gone through a lot of tough times. Some experiences ensured a bond that went beyond friendship.

Fact Number Two: it wasn't just a passing of a soul. It had been a vicious, visceral crime. They had not been prepared for this. They had assumed that maybe, in the off chance that Yukishiro possessed more skill and strength than Kenshin, maybe they would lose him. But not Kaoru. She had never once crossed their mind, not when it was already too late. And they were all ill-prepared to deal with the outcome of Yukishiro's jinchuu.

Fact Number Three: she was tired. So, so incredibly worn-out. She hadn't been able to sleep, to sit down and just close her eyes for a moment and just… _breathe_.

All these contributed to her current state of mind. She couldn't grasp at the things that she should be thinking and doing and feeling. They were just too many.

She was trying not to hate the perfectness of the weather, the way the porcelain blue sky above them seemed so endless and filled with possibilities – with warmth and life; she was trying to string together words to say goodbye, to apologize, to not hate and put blame. She was trying not to cry.

All these needed a degree of concentration that was only possible with the mechanical way her feet moved forward. Left foot first, then right, then left, and again right. Slow, small steps. And she had just started to straighten out some of her tangled thoughts when it was abruptly cut short.

An elbow brushed against her arms and without even looking, she knew who it was. It was inexplicable – how she could differentiate his presence from the rest of the crowd. It was like some sort of inner _twitch _inside of her that would send signals to her brain: It's him.

This knowing without seeing, she'd come to reluctantly accept this; no longer questioning what it meant. She hadn't even tried to understand _why_. It was something that she really didn't want to figure out. Not yet anyway.

But yes, now, here, she didn't need to glance up to know who had interrupted her contemplations.

They had not started out walking together. She hadn't even seen him since the palanquin was brought out of the dojo. She had assumed he was somewhere with the mourners and that he was – or they were still avoiding each other. She glanced at him, wondering why he was suddenly invading her personal space after they have exhaustingly made sure that they were never together in the same room.

He didn't seem to be aware of her, which irritated her. Like always. She felt her indignation slowly growing, expanding and pushing everything else aside and it made her feel – suddenly, like herself again. For the first time since the attack at the dojo, it didn't feel like she was having an out of body experience, unanchored and floating aimlessly away, into oblivion. She felt yanked back – and she welcomed it.

She was here; maddened by the fact that Sanosuke was clueless at the sudden surge of life inside of her. He was gracelessly ambling besides her, staring straight ahead, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his pants. He was close enough for her to hear him grumbling underneath his breath: quick, angry words that didn't make sense to her, a string of curses, followed by snarling and teeth grinding. He made hissing sounds, eyes roaming around, making rude gestures at some of the people who were walking with them.

This was the nearest they had been since she had helplessly watched Sanosuke explain to Yahiko what had happened.

* * *

She remembered Yahiko snapping at Sano, telling him how wrong he was, that Kenshin would never, _ever_ just leave, no matter what his reasons might be.

Sano lost what little patience he still had in him. Frustrated and little more than just angry, he grabbed Yahiko by the shoulders, shaking him senseless, completely forgetting that the boy had just woken up and was still recovering from his injuries.

"Why the fuck would I lie about this, Yahiko, huh? Do you think I'm having _fun_ telling you these things?"

Yahiko matched Sano's anger, wriggling away from his hold, an angry fist raised inches from Sano's nose, "Don't _touch_ me!"

This was an oft repeated demand from Yahiko. It was like a personal insult to him that they were trying to hug him, hold his hand and console him. What little effort they could muster to show Yahiko that they too knew of his pain, seemed intolerable to the young boy.

Sano blinked at him, shaking his head. "He left, ok? Kenshin is gone. Probably off to hunt that psychotic bastard. Alone. The selfish, stupid…when I get my hands on him…Kami help me, I'm going to kill them both."

It was probably the most inappropriate thing to say and trust Sano to say exactly just that. It had been all instinct when she promptly smacked Sano at the back of the head. They ended up arguing, of course, with Yahiko stomping out of the dojo, muttering about having to deal with childish adults.

That was the last time she and Sano had talked. He had accused her being an unfeeling bitch to which her reply had been a resounding, conversation-stopping slap.

Sano had busied himself with getting the dojo fixed. Salvaged was more like it. She didn't know how he managed to get all those men to help. Ruffians and gamblers. They had all been so startling polite with her. It was like beneath all that grime, they were polished gentlemen just waiting to emerge or be coaxed out of their smoky, filthy gambling dens. They confused her. She knew how to deal with arrogant, slimy bastards but not men who suddenly became soft spoken whenever she or Tsubame or Tae were near. She wasn't quite sure how to deal with them. They seem to even hesitate around Yahiko, minimizing their swearing and jostling around.

Not that Yahiko noticed it. She had caught him once, standing guard by the dojo entrance, wary of them, eyes slanting as he tried to catch anyone who might unwittingly disrespect the dojo, but they had all steered clear away from him. They were curious of course, a female shihondai, a female _dead _shihondai. Murdered inside. What kind of dojo was _this_ exactly? But they weren't curious enough to earn the wrath of the little boy who stood like a royal guard by the engawa.

And while Sanosuke was leading the band of tentatively reformed drunkards to patch up the dojo, she had decided to stay at the clinic, because people still got sick and needed to be seen and treated. She was ashamed to admit that she had let Yahiko deal with all the necessary preparations, but it was what the boy wanted. Demanded actually. His eyes brightened by the tears he had finally shed, his jaws quivering, his little arms crossed against his chest.

He tried very hard not to appear like a child, even when he was at his most vulnerable. Pointing out that he _was_ a child and that he shouldn't be dealing with such matters seemed like an unnecessary cruelty.

She understood this behavior. Yahiko wanted to keep moving, keep doing something, have things to think about and decide on. It was a very adult thing to do.

* * *

Maybe because he had missed what had happened, he was trying to compensate. Or maybe because he loved his Busu-sama so much he was unable to just let go of the dojo – of the things that Kaoru loved, because somehow they were extensions of _her_. They weren't a living, breathing thing that he could take comfort from, but the dojo was hers and the dojo would be taken care of. Her things would be taken care of. Yahiko saw to that.

He had sat with Tae as they tried to take account of all the personal belongings. The ribbons, the kimonos, the small girlish trinkets that were carefully arranged inside her room; they didn't know she had a fondness for delicate fans and small but intricate hair clips. Yahiko had looked slightly amused, seeing Kaoru's hidden treasures. All of that were catalogued and gently boxed. Yahiko was still undecided on how to dispose of them.

"Only if you want to Yahiko-chan," She had heard Tae gently telling Yahiko.

"Who'd I give them to? And…I don't want other people…you know, touching her stuff…"

"Wakata, Yahiko-chan. You're a good bo—young man. She'd be very proud of you."

"Yeah, well, I'm really more scared she'd haunt me if she found out I gave her things away. And…and please stop crying. She'd hate it if we were all sad."

For a child, he had shockingly made smart and careful decisions. She didn't even know all the details of how the estate will be taken care of, but Oguni-sensei had told her, when she finally had the nerve to inquire, that she need not worry about it, Yahiko was taking charge. _Yahiko!_

Maybe that was why she and Sano were acting like this. They were both filled with cringe-inducing guilt and embarrassment at how they had avoided all the difficult tasks. The mere mention of Kaoru's name was enough to send them both out of the room, running to some important or forgotten errand.

They would have reluctantly handled everything if Yahiko had been an angry, sobbing mess, but he had been the exact opposite of that, and so they both slowly started taking a few steps back, letting Yahiko have more and more control, practically leaving everything for him to deal with.

He was after all, as he himself had declared, practically family. The last word always said with fierceness it brought out an ache inside her chest. _Family_. It reminded her of her own family. It made her think of them but, like everything else that poked and prodded her heart; she quickly brushed aside those thoughts.

So yes, she will admit to this shame: she and Sano had left Yahiko alone, exactly when the boy had needed them most. They'd come to the dojo, but only to ask Yahiko what was to happen next. If they needed to do things _outside _the dojo, away from the sounds of mourning and grief, away from the blood stains, away from the scent of death and regret, away from horror that seemed to throb and wait at the dojo's corners, waiting to pounce on them, sink its claws deeper and drag them back to that night.

They'd silently listen as Yahiko explained what will happen – no, what _he _wanted to happen – and they'd both mumble their ascent, nodding their head and then quickly disappearing to their own little worlds.

* * *

It was foolish and irresponsible but Yahiko hadn't been there to hear the desperate, anguished, inhuman cry that Kenshin made when he'd screamed Kaoru's name. He hadn't been there to see Kenshin's despair. The way his eyes had slowly darkened, the light behind it suddenly dulled, extinguished, until it looked nothing like the eyes of a man alive. He didn't see the blood stain getting larger and larger, the dark, black-red spilling forward, as though reaching out to them. He didn't have to watch Sano carry Kaoru inside her room, her lifeless arms dangling like a broken doll. Yahiko didn't have to kneel down and wash the blood off her face, the cut on her cheeks. The two angry slashes that had made Megumi recoil in horror as though she had finally realized that this was _Kaoru_.

Kaoru. The girl she had tormented and teased. She had always played with Kaoru's insecurities. Growing up motherless, she knew Kaoru had always worried that there were things she didn't know, didn't understand. Couldn't know and couldn't understand. It was an old wound that Megumi always tried to scratch, tearing away the scabs. Always pointing out how unfeminine Kaoru was, like it was something the younger woman ought to change, when she herself had shed long ago what society declared how women should be: shy and sweet, docile and nearly invisible.

Megumi had fought hard to be a doctor, to be _respected_ as a doctor and there she was, belittling a girl who lived all by herself, trying to run a dojo on her own, teaching her father's words. Kaoru should have been proud of the callouses on her fingers, testament to how strong she had been and yet, Megumi had often mocked how rough her hands were, how she smelled like sweat and wood.

"No man would ever want!"(_You'd be alone forever.)_

"Your cooking is atrocious! Poor Kenshin! I feel sorry for him!"(_You're not good enough.)_

They were both strong and independent women and she should have done nothing but tell Kaoru that. She and Kaoru were alike in so many ways. But she only realized this when it didn't mean anything anymore. Remorse had slowly filled her and then shame and then regret.

Regret was the worst. It was too late. Too late to say _sorry_. Too late to tell Kaoru that she was just tired of being alone and she didn't resent the fact that Kenshin had obviously chosen her – or that Sano and Yahiko (though it wasn't always obvious) practically worshipped the ground she walked on. If anyone had asked Kenshin and Sano and Yahiko who is the most precious person in their life, they'd have all one answer.

"Kaoru-dono."

"Geez. What a stupid question. But, ok. Busu-sama. And don't you dare tell her! She won't believe you anyway."

"You mean, like alive? I guess, jou-chan can be precious. When she wants to be. I'd get smacked though, if I told her she's precious. She'd say I'm an idiot. She wants to be more… _fierce_, you know? Not precious. But yeah, Jou-chan."

Takani Megumi was jealous not of Kaoru, but of how an inexperienced, innocent girl, with her heart on her sleeves, could represent hope and home. Megumi had hated girls like that all her life. They didn't hide behind a wall, didn't lock up their emotions and weren't scared to show how they feel. They smiled, and everything seemed to instantly become better, brighter. That kind of warmth didn't come naturally to her. And she hated it. And she couldn't understand _why._

* * *

Megumi remembered starting at the bloodied towel clutched in her hand, still somehow, unable believe that this had happened. It had been so quick and brutal. Horrible was not enough to describe the nightmare scene that she had witnessed.

Unreal. Maybe that was a word that can be used. Because that's exactly how she felt.

She had moved clumsily, awkwardly, with heavy limbs, like she was underwater. Things around her were blurry along the edges. She couldn't find her voice, couldn't offer Kenshin or Sano any kind of consoling gesture. She just sat there, stunned and unable to do anything but bow her head and close her eyes and wish a thousand wishes that would and could never be.

She wished she had been kinder, gentler with her teasing, less scathing in her comments. She wished there was a way to save her. She wished she could have turned her head, looked at Kenshin and in an urgent, completely professional voice had been able to say: "It's alright Ken-san, I _can_ save her! She'll be ok. She'll be fine. You'll have her back in no time."

Futile wishes. All of them. The reality was she had done nothing. Not even a half-hearted attempt to stop the flow of blood from that small wound on the chest. Such a small cut, but so terribly lethal. She had known the moment she had seen the deadened, unseeing eyes. She had been a doctor far too long to not know Death.

She vaguely remembered Saitou towering above her. She could see the tips of his dusty shoes, an unfinished cigarette crushed beneath it, the embers still faintly glowing. "She needs to be cleaned up. Can you at least do that? Because if you can't, I'm going to have to ask a more capable doctor to do it, so, really, it's up to you."

She whipped her head up so fast, it made her feel dizzy. She glared at the policeman. All the hatred she felt for Death and Fate and Revenge and the senselessness of Yukishiro's jinchuu, she channeled all of that when she hatefully told Saitou to go fuck himself. And then she had asked Kenshin and Sano to take Kaoru inside the dojo. But only Sano obeyed. When she looked at her side, Kenshin was gone.

That was the last time she had seen the ruruoni. God knows how he was still able to walk away unnoticed after all the injuries that he had just sustained. She could only hope that Kenshin was fine – but his wounds were untreated and so many complications and infections can set in. Not to mention his emotional and mental state and then Sano was besides her, scooping up Kaoru's lifeless body, and she had forgotten all about Kenshin.

* * *

She sat with Kaoru for a long time. Until she could feel the cold inside her own chest, settling there like lead weight. She had cleaned off all the blood and there was nothing left to do but to go outside and tell Sano to call the sogisha. But no one seemed to be in a hurry, not even Saitou who had calmly stood by the closed shoji door to inform her that he was going to the police station and will have a squad at the dojo soon.

"You tell that Rooster Head to stay away from the crime scene. If he touches anything again, I'm going to haul him off to jail. I'm going to send for Oguni-sensei, have to make things official. Are you sure you can handle this?"

She had coldly retorted that Saitou go to hell. Either Saitou hadn't heard her or he wasn't interested in what she had to say, because she only heard the fading sound of his footsteps. It occurred to her later on, that perhaps Saitou was just trying to be kind, in his own incomprehensible way, but she was far too distracted to even realize it that time.

Megumi had spent a long time starting at her lap, where she held the towel. The blood had started to settle on her hands, staining her kimono with a faint color of red. A faded, weaker color. But the stench of blood had started to fill up the room, going stronger by the minute. The metallic scent made her stomach curl, the muscles clenching and unclenching. The familiar burn of acid and nausea rose up to her throat and she started gasping and breathing through her mouth.

She was going to have to give an official statement on how Kaoru died, Saitou made that clear and she was supposed to give all the details, but she couldn't go beyond the customary checking of the pulse (none). She didn't even have the heart to measure the depth of the fatal would and give a thorough inspection of the body for any other sign of injuries.

She thought she could handle it, to examine the body like it was a stranger. It wasn't and she couldn't pretend otherwise.

Hurrying to stand up, she almost tripped on her own legs as she scrambled to get out the room, into the engawa, where she had promptly vomited. Clutching her stomach, her hands cold and clammy, Megumi thought, _"I'm a doctor, I'm not weak. I can do this."_

But her heart was screaming that she had lost something important. Something precious and she hadn't even realized it. The girl inside, the dead girl with two slashes on her cheeks and a pierced heart, _that _girl could have been like a sister to her. If she had only opened up her heart and had tried to be kinder, warmer, more welcoming. If she tried to be more of a friend than a sort-of-rival for a man and then she remembered what she had told Kaoru the other night.

_"You're no replacement to Tomoe-san"_

She had said it disdainfully, realizing only belatedly how sharp a cut this would have been to Kaoru. She had wanted to take it back somehow, because she'd seen Kaoru flinch. Or she thought she did, because the girl had snapped back a quick reply, head held up high, defiant as always.

But yes, thinking about it now… she was certain that Kaoru had briefly looked at her with blue eyes filled with hurt and betrayal. Like she had wanted to ask her, "how could you say that to me Megumi? Why would you say something like that? I thought we were friends."

And remembering that, Megumi broke down, crying like she hadn't cried in a long time. "Oh Kaouru, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it that way. You're everything to Kenshin. You're his whole world."

But what good would those words do when it was already too late?

* * *

Megumi shook her head, trying to get rid of the memory from her head. She had done enough self-loathing every time she'd find her mind drifting to what had happened that night. And this was exactly why she and Sano had avoided each other. Seeing him brought out feelings and memories that she didn't want to dwell on. All the horror, anger, sadness, guilt, helplessness, hopelessness. All the crippling emotions that she swore she would never let herself feel again. They all come back in waves, nearly drowning her.

From beside her, as though still not realizing who he was walking beside, Sano muttered another batch death threats and bodily harm. His anger was so very apparent; it was emitting its own kind of heat and scent. Megumi thought she could taste ashes in her mouth, smell sulfur. No, this was not anger, this was something more potent than that. Something dangerous.

She understood where this was all coming from, but this wasn't the place, or the time to act like a barbarian. Fortunately, she was close enough to elbow him, which she did and that earned her a hateful glare. He made a show of slanting his eyes, a clear wordless message: 'Oh it's you. Now, back the fuck off!'

Finally pulling herself out for her reverie and self-examination, Megumi decided it was time to end their ridiculous behavior, if not for Yahiko's sake, at least for her. To finally start some sort of healing, of acceptance. So she rolled her eyes at him before grabbing on to his arms and pulling herself up so she could lean on him as she stood on her tiptoes.

She was aware at the numerous pairs of eyes suddenly staring at them. There were plenty of gossips to go around for the week. A month, even. Hell, she wouldn't be surprised if people would still be talking about this for the whole year. This little display of inappropriate behavior will be just an additional juicy detail, of course. She already has an idea on what people would be saying. _Trust that Lady Doctor and that Street Fighter to make a scene. At the funeral procession, no less. _

Well, nothing could be done about that. She had learned long ago that people will _always _talk and there is absolutely no way of pleasing everyone. Faults would always be found and discussed. Especially amongst the small minded. Ignoring them, she pressed herself closer to Sano, her lips barely skimming his ears and succinctly told him to stop acting line a lunatic.

"What do you think you're doing?" She didn't exactly expect a reply but before she could say anything else, she noticed the smell of alcohol wafting off from him. She was fairly certain, seeing the state of dojo's finances, that there were no foods or liquor served during the maru-tsuya. It had been a quiet, somber but simple affair. He had probably crawled back to his place around midnight, started drinking and then decided to join the procession, in this state.

"Kami-sama, you smell like a filthy jug of sake. I expected better behavior from you, Sanosuke." There was an accusing tone in her voice that she didn't bother to hide.

Sano shrugged her off with a roll of his shoulder. Eyes glinting angrily, he lightly pushed her away from him. "Who the fuck are these people?! Do you know anyone of them? Where were they when jou-chan needed students? When the dojo was being attacked? They're not family. They're not friends. They're complete strangers! They're not here for _her_! I'll tell you why they're here," he paused, seething with rage. "They're here for the manju. The bastards."

He'd gotten so worked up, his voice had become louder. The whispered conversations around them immediately stopped. A small cluster of these strangers glanced at their direction, further enraging Sano. "What are you looking at, huh?! Who are _you_?!"

She flashed them all a small grimace of apology, bowing her head low and attempted to divert Sano's attention by elbowing him yet again. This time, she made sure it hurt, targeting a rib. "We don't even have manju, you idiot." Megumi reminded him.

Sano didn't even flinch. "Otomurai kasegi. Fuckers." He spat at the ground, looking for faces he didn't know, glaring at them, a silent promise that he'd look for them later. After the funeral, he'd come knocking at their door and he'd let them have a taste of the pain he was feeling right now.

She placed, what she hope, was a calming hand on Sano's arm, "They're neighbors, Sano. They can be here if they want to. They knew her too."

"Just leave me alone, will you?" Sano told her, not unkindly. There was even a hint of pleading in his voice and Megumi would've backed off before, her pride wounded by Sano brushing her off when she was trying to show him that she cared. But she was done trying to be safe and alone behind her wall.

"And what good would that do?" She insisted, grabbing Sano by the arms and pulling him to the side. "Look at you! You need to take a bath and I don't think you've eaten anything since that night…"

"Oh and what," Sano said, cutting her off, "now you suddenly care?"

"Sano, we have to stop doing this!"

"I'm fine. Look, I'll take a bath so I won't offend you anymore and I'll go mooch off at Tae-san. There are you happy?!"

"No, I'm not happy. No one is happy, Sano." She hissed back at him. She paused to take a deep breath and swallowing hard, eyes closed; she reached the edge of her wall and leapt blindly. "We need you. Yahiko and I. Now, more than ever, we need you."

Sano's whole face darkened, as though her admission of needing him was a physical blow. He didn't need that burden now, she knew, but Megumi wasn't sure how she was going to survive this day if Sano would go missing too. Or would come back to the clinic cut and bloodied.

"Please, Sano." She added, cringing at how difficult it was to be honest with her feelings, to show how she truly felt and not hide behind her usual haughty comments. "This… _this_ is enough," she made a hopeless, sweeping gesture around them and Sano followed the movement of her hands, staring at it until she let it drop onto her side. He didn't look back at her; instead he kept his eyes downcast, silently mulling over things.

"No more fighting. And drinking. Promise me that. We need to go back to the dojo and face whatever comes next."

Sano didn't say anything for a long time, but she could tell that he was still angry. The way his jaw worked, clenching and unclenching, she knew that though hidden inside the pockets, his fists were tightly balled up in fists as his eyes roamed the line of mourners that had started to enter the temple.

And Megumi finally understood, with a start, that Sano had been looking for a particular person.

Of course! Why hadn't she seen it?! He wasn't even remotely pissed off at the strangers who had attended the funeral march. He was far, far angrier that Kenshin wasn't here. Megumi swallowed hard. Unsure of what to say. Suddenly afraid that Sano wouldn't like it if he knew how easily she could read him.

She was upset by Kenshin's absence, of course, but she was more worried at the possible state the rurouni was in. She wouldn't be surprised if Kenshin was lying somewhere in the ditch, unconscious, his body trying to heal itself. Kenshin was used to such lamentable situations. He was a survivor. He had lived through the war, but he had been younger then and he had a reason to live. Now though, Megumi wasn't sure.

She was suddenly surprised to hear Sano blurt out that she was right. She turned to him, perplexed, wondering if she had spoken her fears out loud.

"You're absolutely right." Sano repeated, "I wouldn't want to waste my time and energy on these lowlifes. I'll wait until we find Kenshin. We'll track down that psychopath, we'll avenge jou-chan and everyone can just fuck off." He slammed his right fist against the palm of his left hand, his jaws set.

Megumi suddenly felt cold. She stepped away from Sano and wrapped her arms around herself. Was that what they really needed? More bloodshed? She didn't think she could handle it anymore. She had seen too much and she was tired, so very tired, of trying to heal and to put things back together. She didn't know how to be hopeful and smile and be encouraging. That wasn't her, that was what Kaoru… and that was already lost now. Without her, they'd never really be a family, never again.

She suddenly longed to not care, to just let Sano do whatever the hell he wanted to. It was too tiring, caring this much and letting it show for everyone to sneer at it, take it for granted, ignore it. How does Kaoru do it? She wasn't built for this. It would be better if she just…if she could just move on, just go forward and forget about everything. Maybe she ought to go home now; there was nothing for her here.

Yahiko…Yahiko can take care of himself. He didn't need her. No one needed her here.

She watched as Sanosuke marched on, his head bobbing up and down, as his strides got longer, hurrying up to catch up with the last of the crowd. Megumi didn't know even what sort of ceremony they'll have. Yahiko didn't want Kaoru to be cremated and that was all that she knew.

She looked around her, realizing that she had been walking amongst strangers. Yahiko was probably with Tae and Tsubame, Sano with his ruffian friends. She had seen Oguni-sensei earlier with Maekawa Miyauchi, the two of them had looked tired and devastated by the loss, Kaoru had been their only connection to Koshijirou Kamiya, their old friend, and now that too was gone.

Megumi was sure Saitou was at the sidelines, leading a couple of young policemen that were escorting the procession, keeping their distance but still alert for any possible reappearance of Yukishiro (or Kenshin), and there she was, mourning all by herself.

Maybe, after all this time, she had really been an outsider. Not really part of the family that they had built around Kaoru. Maybe she had kidded herself into believing that if she offered her heart to Sano and Yahiko and Kenshin, they would accept it and they could all try to heal each other wounds.

How wrong she was. She was the one who couldn't replace Kaoru.

Megumi felt the bitter tears threatening to spill. She swallowed hard, as her heart painfully tried to accept this fact. It would be easier to leave now, with this realization.

Unbidden and without warning, a voice inside the deepest part of her suddenly spoke up; it was insistently urging her to find Sano and stop him. Make him see reason, make him understand.

He's got it all wrong. This was last thing that Kaoru would have wanted. Kaoru would rather that they find Kenshin and take care of him. Kaoru wouldn't want to be avenged if it meant that they'd get hurt. She would never forgive you if you let them go into this mindless quest for revenge. This wasn't what Kaoru would have wanted for them. Especially not for Yahiko, he's still young and despite all the tragedies he had faced, he still has a chance for a bright and peaceful future. You have to tell Sano this! He'll listen to you.

Megumi shook her head, but…

_Please Megumi, please don't give up yet. They need you._

Megumi's heart stopped. She let out an audible gasp, her hands clenching her chest. She thought maybe…was that Kaoru's voice? She blinked back her tears and tried to clear her mind, to hear Kaoru's voice one last time.

Say something, Tanuki! What do you want me to do?!

But the voice was gone.

And it was useless really, because she already knew what she had to do. Not because she wanted to replace Kaoru or because it would make her feel better, but because this was who she was. Takani Megumi, although she might have moments of self-doubt (unknown to many) she would never, ever give up on her friends and her family.

They were family. She, Kenshin and Sano and Yahiko. They might be broken now, having lost Kaoru, but that still didn't mean that she would just leave them behind. She was done leaving people behind. She may not be a ray of light, but she was a voice of reason, and those boys – those men, will listen to her. She wasn't just going to stand by and let them do stupid things. Kaoru would roll her eyes at her if she let those idiots fend off for themselves.

I'm not giving up. I'm never giving up on them. Are you listening to me, Kaoru? You don't have to worry about them anymore.

Squaring her shoulder, standing taller, Megumi plowed through the crowd to catch up with Sanosuke, she didn't care if Sano and Yahiko didn't want to be scolded or comforted or both, she would do exactly just that. Then they will find Kenshin and they will make sure that he was alright. Because it was something Kaoru would have done and because deep down, despite how different they may seem to other people, she and Kaoru were exactly alike: they both loved their family. Fiercely. And they will do everything they can to protect them.

It's what every woman does best.

* * *

Translations:

1\. _**Maru-tsuya **_– full wakes, lasted throughout the night. Rituals depend mostly on religious affiliation, but usually there would be some fanfare and food and liquor would be provided. Generally, wakes are supposed to be lively affairs.

2\. _**Sogisha**_ – funeral companies

3\. _**manju**_ \- sweet buns, usually given during funerals

4\. _**otomurai kasegi**_ \- "making money mourning", people pretended to be funeral guests in order to receive gifts (manju or other sweets that could then be resold or traded to stores)

**Notes**: Ok, wow, this turned into a thirteen page thing. Haha. It would not seem like it, but this was the hardest to write. Megumi is hard to write and I have so much uncertainty with trying to tell the story through her voice. She isn't my favorite character in the series, but she was awesome in her own way. I know my Megumi here is a bit OC but I hope you can forgive me for that, especially those who love her. I tried my best to show how I see her and how I think she would react or feel during this time frame in the manga. I wanted her strong but just a little bit unsure of herself and her place in the Kenshin-gumi, especially now that Kaoru's gone. I think I might have tried to squeeze in everything in one chapter and it's a bit cluttered. As always, I'll probably re-read this and do some massive editing, so please feel free to let me know what you guys think. I love getting feedback and comments – it helps me to see things in a different way and realize things I hadn't realized when I was writing this. So, yeah. Thanks everyone for reading. Until next time.

Also, all the funeral customs mentioned here were taken from: Changes in Japanese Urban Funeral Customs during the Twentieth Century by Murakami Kokyo (Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 2000 27/3-4)


End file.
